


Just a Ruse

by Mystical_Knight_Dragon



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Smut, The whore is only there for like 10 seconds, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:27:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23073202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystical_Knight_Dragon/pseuds/Mystical_Knight_Dragon
Summary: A sharp knock on the door had Jaskier nearly jumping from his skin. Geralt had been resting in the tub with his eyes peacefully closed for the past fifteen minutes, oblivious to the outside world, and he looked momentarily confused before a new expression crossed his face."Oh. I forgot. I ordered company for the evening. That was before I knew we'd be sharing a room. That'll be her, so…"Jaskier glowered. "I'm not being kicked out of my own room. I ordered it first. Technically, you weren't even invited, so you can just—"He trailed off when he caught Geralt's bemused expression, the corners of his mouth upturned expectedly. "I can just what? What could you possibly do to me?" He rose from the tub, water cascading from his body, cock hard at the thought of the whore at the door, and Jaskier's jaw dropped at the sheer size of it. In three massive strides, Geralt had crossed to the door and opened it, a buxom redheaded whore poised on the threshold.She looked pointedly at Jaskier and said smoothly, "If there'll be two of ya, then he'll need to pay up as well."
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 347
Collections: Smut





	Just a Ruse

Jaskier was used to sleeping rough — in fact, he preferred any bed he  _ didn't  _ have to pay for, even if it meant sleeping on the ground — but these past two weeks had been getting to him. Ever since he had started traveling with Geralt, they'd made a point of visiting towns and villages with regular frequency. Though Geralt preferred avoiding people, he still needed them to pay his contracts, and Jaskier needed an audience for his music — meaning they were nearly guaranteed a night at an inn two to three times a week. There had even been that glorious Griffin contract which Geralt took his sweet time preparing for, and Jaskier had spent six glorious nights in a feather bed.

And each of those nights, he'd had someone beside him to spend it with.

Within two weeks of traveling together, Jaskier had noticed that Geralt matched his voracious sexual appetite. They were coy, at first, but once they reached an unspoken agreement to purchase separate rooms at the inn, they did little to secret the sheer volume of people they spent their nights with. Geralt preferred whores, rather paying for sex than risking townsfolk turning him down simply for who he was, whereas Jaskier took anyone and everyone he fancied, the more the merrier.

So having spent the last two weeks sleeping rough in the middle of the forest had begun to whittle down Jaskier's patience. He longed for a bed and a warm body beside him — and a hearty, well-cooked meal besides. But tracking down that Ulfhedinn had proved challenging for Geralt, almost to a worrying degree. Never before had Jaskier seen a monster elude Geralt in such a way, especially not something like an Ulfhedinn, but Geralt did his best to mollify his worries, insisting he was just being extra careful not to leave out a scent or trail for the Ulfhedinn to trace back to them.

And so the evening of night fifteen of camping in the woods settled around them, Jaskier cursing the shrill sounds of crickets and frogs awakening in the darkness. His body craved something other than roast squirrel and dried apples, wishing desperately for a man or woman to be inside of, or inside of him. As such, his mood had grown foul, and he unwisely snapped at Geralt as he added more wood to the fire. Geralt leveled him an icy gaze which spoke volumes, and Jaskier hastily retreated to his bedroll, choosing to turn in early rather than risk Geralt's wrath.

Something awoke him in early evening, and at first he couldn't place the sound. He always slept like the dead with Geralt around, knowing the Witcher would protect him from anything creeping about in the night. He glanced Geralt's way and shivered. The Witcher didn't always sleep, especially when he was on watch in the woods, and instead fell into an eerie meditative state, sitting ramrod straight with eyes closed yet uncannily alert and poised for action. From his position, Jaskier had a clear view of Geralt's back, his shoulders rising and falling at an unsettlingly slow rate.

There was that sound again, and Jaskier tensed. Sure Geralt would spring to action if the noise belonged to anything life threatening, Jaskier simply looked on, studying the Witcher, waiting for him to make a move.

Geralt's elbow was jerking imperceptibly, and if Jaskier hadn't been observing him so keenly, he would never have noticed. A low  _ hmm  _ reached Jaskier's ears, and with a start, he recognized what Geralt was up to. He wanted to look away, but he remained frozen, eyes riveted to Geralt's otherwise perfectly still form. Jaskier himself had abstained from touching himself whenever the two of them camped out like this and so blamed it on two weeks self-restraint when he felt his body respond to the idea of Geralt masturbating before him.

It didn't take long before Jaskier had his hand pressed against himself, stroking slowly over his leggings, and hoping Geralt's enhanced senses wouldn't catch what he was up to. It was easy to build up arousal by imagining how Geralt would look from the front, hand jerking his cock, lower lip caught between his teeth, white hair brushing his forehead… The moment Jaskier had laid eyes on Geralt, he had been struck by his exotic looks and firm presence, but he had held back from making a move, worried he'd destroy this tentative symbiosis they'd carved for themselves. Now it was too easy to imagine himself on his knees in front of the Witcher, sucking deeply in an eager attempt to bring him over the edge.

The gasp snuck up on him, and Jaskier froze, knowing Geralt had heard him. He screwed his eyes shut, hoping Geralt would still think him asleep. With aching hard cock, he knew there would be no way he'd be able to hold back further sounds of pleasure, especially when he came, and he'd be hard pressed to explain to Geralt why he had been masturbating to the sight of Geralt thrusting into his own fist. He groaned internally but knew it was necessary and forced himself to abstain from completing the job. Instead he forced himself to listen for any change in Geralt's posture or breathing to indicate what was happening behind veiled lids. Alas, the Witcher maintained his trademark silence, not even uttering a huff if and when he came.

Sleep must have eventually taken hold of Jaskier, for he awoke as the sun rose. Geralt had already moved off, hunting his quarry, and Jaskier was glad he could avoid any awkward conversation about what had happened the previous evening. Knowing he was alone, and recalling Geralt's shifting of his elbow, Jaskier soon had himself freed from his leggings and furiously jerking himself to the mental images of how Geralt would look really letting go, hair loose, head thrown back, mouth agape… Those lucky whores Geralt spent his time with had never mentioned any details about the Witcher under his clothes, apart from his scars, but Jaskier had seen him naked, though flaccid, and had seen how bowlegged those whores walked from his bedroom in the morning and so had a pretty good idea about the size he was packing.

It really had been too long, and soon Jaskier had spilled over his fist. Finishing up, he quickly rinsed off in the nearby brook, splashing water on his face and hair as well. By the time he'd finished readying himself for the day and powered through another dried apple for breakfast, Geralt had returned, a pleased look on his face — at least, as pleased a look as Geralt could wear. Slung over his shoulder was the corpse of a wolf creature, which he soon transferred to Roach.

"That was fast," Jaskier snorted.

"Hmm," was the reply. He'd have to tease more details from the Witcher as they traveled back to town lest he have to fill in the lyrics to the song with half-truths and assumptions. To be fair, those made up the majority of his songs about Geralt, but the ones where he either witnessed the action or prodded Geralt enough for the details were always better.

"Stumbled across it by accident," Geralt offered, uncharacteristically forthcoming. "Saw it before it saw me and made quick work of it."

Well, that was more detail than he thought he'd get, yet still not enough to write a masterful ballad. He left the subject alone in favor of tearing down camp quickly so they could return to town.

As soon as they arrived in town, Jaskier was ordering a room and a bath to be brought up. He was already soaking when he was interrupted by his door swinging open. Geralt stood in the doorway, frowning unpleasantly.

"They're out of rooms," he snapped. "This is the last one. We'll be sharing tonight."

Jaskier slid further into the tub, groaning. He had been looking forward to finding someone to stay the night with, but that hadn't meant Geralt.

"When you're done, I get a turn." Geralt nodded at the tub, and Jaskier waved his hand to show he'd heard. It wasn't uncommon for them to share a bath, and honestly, he was glad he got the first turn. He could smell the Ulfhedinn blood from across the room.

Geralt was already undressing, eager for his first bath in a proper tub in over two weeks. Jaskier watched him mildly, unsurprised when he still felt that pull of attraction. Muscles rippled under taut skin, marred as it was by such a crisscross of scars, yet Jaskier loved how each scar represented a song, a story.

He took his time in the tub, watching Geralt pace the room, unpacking his bags and checking his supplies, all the while naked to the world. He spent extra time with his sword, sharpening the edges and rubbing oils over their sheen. When Jaskier knew he couldn't keep Geralt waiting longer, he rose from the water, deciding to dry naturally rather than use a towel. Geralt passed him on the way to the tub, and Jaskier could feel those piercing eyes on his frame. Not knowing what to do with such information, he decided to do as Geralt had done and dig through his bags to check his possessions. Most of his clothes were in need of a wash, and he folded them carefully for the innkeeper's wife to take care of them. His remaining clothes, he shook out and laid to rest in the dresser drawers.

A sharp knock on the door had Jaskier nearly jumping from his skin. Geralt had been resting in the tub with his eyes peacefully closed for the past fifteen minutes, oblivious to the outside world, and he looked momentarily confused before a new expression crossed his face.

"Oh. I forgot. I ordered company for the evening. That was before I knew we'd be sharing a room. That'll be her, so…"

Jaskier glowered. "I'm not being kicked out of my own room. I ordered it first. Technically, you weren't even invited, so you can just — "

He trailed off when he caught Geralt's bemused expression, the corners of his mouth upturned expectedly. "I can just what? What could you possibly do to me?" He rose from the tub, water cascading from his body, cock hard at the thought of the whore at the door, and Jaskier's jaw dropped at the sheer size of it. In three massive strides, Geralt had crossed to the door and opened it, a buxom redheaded whore poised on the threshold.

She looked pointedly at Jaskier and said smoothly, "If there'll be two of ya, then he'll need to pay up as well."

Geralt and the whore waited expectantly while Jaskier's mouth worked open and closed. There was no way he could consider joining in on this deranged threesome — especially when he hadn't paid for sex since his sixteenth birthday — but there was no way he'd be kicked out of his own room, damn it! …And it  _ had  _ been two weeks since he'd fucked someone… 

With a snarl, he fished around in his pack for the money and slapped it in the whore's outstretched hand. With little other preamble, she disrobed and made her way to the bed. Jaskier felt his cock harden, and he steadfastly refused to look in Geralt's direction as he followed the whore to the bed.

"How do ya want me?" she asked.

Geralt thought for a moment before responding, "Let's start with you taking turns sucking our cocks. Then we can go from there."

The whore laid down sideways on the bed, her face at the edge, and Geralt wasted no time stepping up to her and sliding his cock between her lips. She took his cock with a struggle, using her hands on the part that wouldn't fit in her mouth, and Jaskier made a purposeful effort to close his mouth.

After several minutes of sucking, Geralt glanced behind his shoulder. Jaskier hadn't moved from his spot, frozen in place, hands clenched at his sides. Geralt beckoned to him, reaching out and pulling on his arm when he didn't budge. Like walking through syrup, Jaskier approached the bed with an unsteady gait. When he was within range, the whore switched her mouth over to him. Geralt looked on, pleased, stroking himself as he watched Jaskier get worked over.

Glancing at the whore's ass, Geralt asked, "You do anal?"

Angrily she spit out Jaskier and glowered at Geralt. "No!" she screeched. "And don't you be getting no ideas, or I'm leaving!"

"Fine, fine."

Placated, the whore went back to blowing Jaskier, though she kept sending cautious glances at Geralt as he continued looking her up and down.

Jaskier had had to bite his tongue. Geralt was into anal? Not many hetero men that he knew of enjoyed anal with a woman, but Jaskier had slept with many men and equally enjoyed being a top and a bottom.

Geralt slid uncomfortably close to Jaskier and told the whore, "Now suck me while he fucks you from behind."

The whore sat up on her knees, arms crossed angrily. To Jaskier, she snapped, "Watch the holes. I mean it. No anal, or I'm leaving."

"Of course," Jaskier answered breathlessly. He climbed on the bed, and when she bent back over to take Geralt back in her mouth, he eyed what he'd be working with. She seemed clean enough, but he didn't want to risk it. Reaching into his bag, he fished out a sheepskin condom and donned it. Geralt eyed him curiously before grinning.

"I've never seen one before," he supplied. "I can't catch human diseases. One of the few perks of being a Witcher, I suppose."

Mouth dry, aware of Geralt's eyes on him, Jaskier maneuvered back behind the whore and pushed inside. Once seated, he started fucking her, unexpectedly self-conscious with Geralt in the room. Sure, he'd had threesomes before, but never with anyone he knew.

He found a good pace and reached around to massage her clit. She bucked unexpectedly, moaning around Geralt's cock. Geralt twisted his fingers through her red hair, holding her head still, and fucked into her mouth, minding his absolute size and taking care not to go too deep. Jaskier bit back any moans threatening to breach his throat, though his arousal was coming mostly from watching Geralt's abdominals flex as he pounded into the whore's mouth and less from his own end. Sex with condoms on never felt great, and he was feeling absolutely no pleasure from fucking the whore before him.

Eventually Geralt's pace slowed, and he pulled out, the whore pulling deep breaths into her lungs and coughing. Ignoring her, Geralt motioned to Jaskier and said, "My turn. Both of you lay on your backs, here, with your legs draped over the mattress like—yes, like that." To Jaskier, when he was positioned, Geralt suggested, "Close your eyes. And take off that condom for now."

With eyes closed, Jaskier's mind was free to recall how Geralt had looked, brow furrowed in concentration, and Jaskier imagined the Witcher thrusting into  _ his  _ mouth instead. His cock tapped anxiously against his stomach as he heard Geralt slide into the whore beside him. She gasped, and Jaskier imagined how his size was stretching her. The rhythmic slapping of skin against skin filled the air, and Jaskier thought about how Geralt would look from behind, back tensed, balls slapping against the whore's skin.

A hot wetness enveloped Jaskier's cock, and he keened, fisting the covers. He could hear the whore panting beside him, so the only available mouth belonged to—

He fisted his hands in Geralt's hair, not to control his pace but to have something of Geralt to hold on to. His hair was still wet from the bath, and Jaskier set his fingers to working out the tangles and massaging the scalp. Geralt huffed, and Jaskier smiled, pleased at being able to pull a sound, no matter how small, from the stoic Witcher.

Geralt was able to take him down to the hilt, throat muscles working his head. Another wail rose from his lips, and he risked cracking open an eye to watch Geralt suck on him. Golden eyes peered back intently, conveying more emotion than Jaskier knew the Witcher contained. Suddenly afraid of where this road would lead, Jaskier snapped his eyes shut once more, content to remain in his own headspace and to worry about the consequences of this evening later.

Saliva pooled at his hip bones as Geralt continued to swallow him as deeply as he could. The rhythmic skin slapping sounds had abated, and Jaskier heard the whore slide off the bed and leave the room. Still Geralt held him in his mouth, bobbing mercilessly, holding his hips still to keep him from thrusting wildly into his mouth.

When Geralt's name slipped from his lips, Jaskier knew there was no turning back. His eyes flew open, and he purposefully met Geralt's gaze, blue eyes lidded lustfully, beckoningly. "You can fuck me, if you'd like," he offered.

Geralt smirked around his cock but didn't relent, tongue working against the skin, lips locked in a burning suction. It was the most intense blowjob Jaskier had ever received, punctuated by the fact that it was Geralt himself between his legs. Without much warning, Jaskier threw his head back, gasping, as he spilled into Geralt's mouth, the Witcher eagerly drinking him down. When he finished, Geralt released him and placed one knee beside him on the mattress. Fisting his cock, he peered hungrily down at Jaskier, watching him, golden eyes memorizing every detail. With a grunt, he came, painting white stripes across Jaskier's chest and stomach. Spent, he collapsed beside Jaskier. Pulling them up more fully onto the mattress, he kept his arms loosely wrapped around the bard, keeping him close beside him. Drawing the covers around them, his breathing slowed even further, and Jaskier was astounded to see Geralt was falling asleep.

"I thought Witcher's didn't sleep," he teased. "You're always doing that weird meditation thing at night."

Geralt cracked one eye open, gazing curiously at Jaskier, before closing it again. "I always sleep after a nice fuck."

Jaskier wanted to ask why Geralt didn't actually fuck him when he'd offered but held himself back, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

Jaskier thought Geralt had fallen asleep again and was startled when he spoke. His voice was pitched low, almost a whisper, speaking calmly into the room. "I heard you last night in the woods, touching yourself, but you stopped."

The unasked "why" hung in the air, and Jaskier felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment. "You heard that, huh? I should have known. I didn't know how you'd see me if you knew I was getting off to, you know…you." Jaskier bit his lip in anticipation of Geralt's anger. Even though the Witcher had just had his cock in his mouth, Geralt had never otherwise shown any interest in Jaskier. Even now, Jaskier was unsure where they stood, even with Geralt's spend cooling on his chest. Having never seen Geralt show the slightest interest in him—or any man, for that matter—he braced himself for some scathing remark or insistence that they never see one another again.

A small grumble from Geralt. He rolled over to face Jaskier, arm still slung casually over his hip. "I've been waiting for you to make a move. I've tried, but you never seemed to notice my advances. Why else do you think I kept us trapped together in the woods for two weeks? And for an Ulfhedinn?" He scoffed. "I took quick work of it in minutes."

Jaskier's head was spinning. When Geralt broke his usual silence, it was like being pulled into a flood, being swept dangerously away by his current of words. "I don't think I understand."

Geralt huffed and wrapped Jaskier more tightly against his chest. "I'm no wordsmith. I'll just have to show you. But for now, we sleep."

  
  
  


Two hours later, Jaskier awoke, still wrapped in Geralt's arms. He was pleased by the silence surrounding them, a nice respite from the sounds of the forest over the past two weeks. He frowned. "There  _ was  _ an extra room, wasn't there, you liar."

In the darkness, a smile crept over Geralt's face. "Hmm."

  
  
  


The following morning, Geralt chose to lounge in bed, unusual for the man who spent his life chasing after monsters. He watched Jaskier pace about the room, tidying up, before dressing. He brought the laundry to the innkeeper's wife before ordering breakfast to be delivered to their room. After they ate, Jaskier took off his clothes and joined Geralt back in the bed, content to be pulled into his arms once more.

"Something's on your mind."

Jaskier jumped. True, his mind had wandered, replaying the previous evening over and over, and a frown had creased his forehead. He had known it would be no use dwelling on how this would affect things between them. Geralt would do what Geralt would do, and nothing Jaskier said or did would stop that, but something indeed had been on his mind, something he'd been too afraid to ask.

Biting his lip, Jaskier looked pointedly at the ceiling, refusing to meet Geralt's gaze. "Last night I asked you to fuck me, but you didn't."

Once more, the "why" hung unspoken between them.

Geralt rolled over and straddled Jaskier's hips, pulling a gasp from his lips. "I'm  _ going  _ to fuck you. But last night, when you asked, I was too close to coming to get started."

Jaskier groaned, the powerful Witcher peering down at him intently, his eyes promising volumes. Strong hands rested against his chest before sliding down his smooth torso. Geralt leaned forward, taking Jaskier's earlobe between his teeth, breath tickling his neck, and Jaskier shivered. Tentatively, he raised his hands to Geralt's shoulders. They were rough, like the rest of the Witcher, but surprisingly warm. Geralt's lips drifted to Jaskier's neck, intent on sucking a wet bruise, and Jaskier's hands roamed, mapping Geralt's chest, stomach, and sides.

By now, Jaskier was fully hard, his cock anxiously resting against his stomach. Geralt shifted and reached between them, mouth moving to suck against his collarbone. With one great hand, he was able to envelop both their hardnesses in his grip, stroking infuriatingly slowly. Never one for being quiet, Jaskier keened, arching into Geralt's grasp.

"Nnh!" he cried, panting heavily. Heart pounding in his chest, he laid his hand over Geralt's, stroking in time with him. The feel of Geralt's manhood against his own had him shaking. His left hand loped over Geralt's shoulder, using him as leverage to thrust into their grasp.

Lips were back at his earlobe, and Jaskier devolved into an incomprehensible mess, thrashing his head against the pillows, completely overwhelmed. Still Geralt kept his abominably slow pace, enjoying teasing Jaskier and watching him fall apart.

"What are you waiting for?" Jaskier huffed. "My hair will be gray like yours before you get on with it!"

With the flat of his tongue, Geralt licked a broad stripe across Jaskier's chest bringing forth another mewl from the bard. Shifting his hips, he laid his cock between Jaskier's cheeks, rubbing against the crack. "You still want this?" Geralt rasped.

Throwing his arms around Geralt's shoulders, Jaskier pulled him close enough to kiss him. "Yes!" he cried. "Fuck!" Pulling back, he eyed Geralt hesitantly. "Let me get my lubricant…"

Begrudgingly, Jaskier left the enveloping warmth that was the Witcher, and pulled a perfumed bottle from his bag. Tossing it to Geralt, Jaskier sidled back onto the bed. As soon as he was settled, Geralt positioned himself between Jaskier's thighs, already pouring the scented oil onto his fingers. With little preamble, he was pressing his first finger inside Jaskier, watching intently as his digit was sucked inside.

"Ohh," Jaskier sighed, working hard to keep himself still. Pullings his feet toward his body, he spread his knees, putting himself on display. Geralt's eyes darkened as he was awarded with a better view of Jaskier's most intimate region. A second finger pressed inside had Jaskier arching off the bed, panting.

"I—I want—" It took effort to pull himself together enough to verbalize what he wanted. Taking a deep breath, Jaskier centered himself enough to demand, "Before you fuck me, I want to suck your dick."

Geralt eyed their positions for a moment, thinking, before nodding. Rolling into his back, he patted his chest. Jaskier nodded, climbing atop Geralt but backward so he was faced with the Witcher's enormous girth. Mouth watering, he sank down onto the flesh, taking it as far as he could manage until it was hitting the back of his throat.

"Fuck!" Geralt hissed, his fingers digging into Jaskier's cheeks, completely surprised at how quickly and deeply the bard swallowed him. If Jaskier wasn't otherwise preoccupied, he would have smiled and spit back a sassy reply. Instead, he pulled back before pushing even further forward, pushing the tip of Geralt's cock past his throat muscles. He couldn't keep it up for long, his throat muscles tiring too quickly, but he reveled in being so filled while he could.

Concentrating on the task before him as he was, Jaskier was taken completely by surprise when Geralt's fingers sank back into him. Thrusting backward, he jolted again when a tongue licked a stripe against his balls. That wicked mouth took one ball gently into its wetness, tongue sliding against the skin, laving and cradling it as gently as if it were an egg. Even as his mind was still reeling from Geralt's mouth, those fingers were prodding in just the right spot. Unable to hold himself back, Jaskier let Geralt's delicious cock fall from his lips, back arching, a wild moan tearing his throat.

Panting, Jaskier warned, "If you still want to fuck me, you'd better stop. I am just this side of cumming."

Geralt gave one last teasing press with his fingers before asking, "You can't go again?"

Jaskier thought for a moment. "Sometimes. Other times I get too worked up and need an hour."

Geralt removed his fingers, and Jaskier readied himself to be fucked but yelped when Geralt laid a broad stripe along his cleft. "If you can't, I'll still be here."

The tongue speared his hole, thrusting in and out, and Jaskier busied his mouth once more to keep his screams muffled. Lips sucked, tongue lapped, the wet sounds sending shocks straight through Jaskier's body. His legs shook with the intensity, and his knees slipped against the sheets, unable to continue supporting himself above Geralt. Instead of collapsing against him, Geralt lifted his hips, holding him. Jaskier's breath caught in his throat at the idea of the Witcher being able to manhandle him so easily. Hot breath brushed against his straining, dripping cock before that blazing mouth embraced it, lips dragging fiercely against his length as he pushed his way up and down. Jaskier did his best to mirror Geralt's movements, tongue pressing heavily against the shaft, dragging up and down as he bobbed his head.

Picking up speed, Geralt sucked harshly, causing Jaskier to moan against the Witcher's cock. With a shudder, Geralt came, pulsing against Jaskier's tongue. His hands clenched against Jaskier's hips, and he lifted him steadily, using gravity to fuck Jaskier into his mouth. Putting his feet against the mattress, Jaskier assisted the rocking of his hips. With a cry, he came, marveling at how incredible Geralt had made him feel.

Thinking they'd take a break, Jaskier was surprised when Geralt rolled him onto his back, climbing atop him, engulfing him, and kissing him deeply. Their tastes mingled on their tongues, and Jaskier arched against the Witcher, pressing their chests together. Breathing heavily through his nose, Jaskier let himself be completely consumed by Geralt. That glorious tongue explored his mouth, taking in every detail. A broad hand stroked his side before resting against his hip, thumb caressing light circles against his skin. Pulling back, Geralt smiled down at him. "You're so soft," he hummed.

Jaskier could feel his blood pounding through his body and knew it wouldn't take long before he could get hard again. In the meantime, he peppered kisses across Geralt's shoulder before following a scar down his chest with his tongue. A warm hand cradled his cheek, pulling Jaskier's face back up to meet Geralt's. This kiss was sweet and tender, and Jaskier recalled the previous night when Geralt said he was much better with actions than words. They continued to kiss, and Jaskier let his fingers play against the thick, corded muscles of Geralt's back.

An insistent tapping against his inner thigh interrupted them, and Jaskier smiled at Geralt's hardness. His own cock was still rising to the occasion, but Jaskier knew it wouldn't take much for him to get fully there. Spreading his knees, he arched his lower half against Geralt, bringing Geralt's erection to rub against his cleft.

"Mmm," Geralt hummed, eyes sliding closed, lower lip catching between his teeth. When he could breathe again, he opened his eyes and smiled down at Jaskier, the bard's breath catching in his throat at the perfection that hung before him. "Ready?"

Jaskier nodded and hooked his arms loosely around Geralt's neck, body thrumming with anticipation. Adjusting, Geralt reached between them, giving Jaskier a teasing stroke before reaching further back and guiding himself into Jaskier. At some point, he must have added the lubricant to himself, for he slid in with little delay, seating himself with a deep grunt. Jaskier cried out in pleasure at being so filled, arching up into the feeling, aching for it. When Geralt drew back and thrust back in, it was like a key sliding into a lock, the two pieces fitting perfectly with one another. 

Geralt shifted again, drawing Jaskier's leg back and holding it by the bend of the knee to keep it still. He thrust forward again, still adjusting to the feeling, and Jaskier cried out, hands scrabbling at Geralt’s back and sides. Grinning, the Witcher kept the teasing pace, each thrust sliding deep within him. He marveled at the bard underneath him, captivated by the overwhelmed look on Jaskier's face.

"S—So good," Jaskier managed to pant. Eyes closed, he whipped his head back and forth against the mattress, blissfully overcome by the sensation of Geralt inside him.

Teeth nibbling against Jaskier's earlobe and a light breath tickling the hairs at the base of his neck had Jaskier babbling incoherently. "You want it that bad, huh?" Geralt teased.

"I want  _ you _ that bad," Jaskier hissed.

Golden eyes darkened lustfully, and Jaskier gasped when Geralt pulled out. "On your knees," he growled.

"No," Jaskier replied with a smirk. "Get on your back. I'm going to ride you, Geralt of Rivia, until I'm the only person you'll ever want to fuck again."

A huff, but Geralt moved to obey. "You still don't understand?" he clucked. "You  _ are  _ the only person I want to fuck."

Jaskier froze.  _ "What?  _ Then what was all that business with the whore last night?"

Geralt grinned wolfishly, pulling at Jaskier's hips encouragingly. "Just a ruse. You'd never responded to my advances before. I thought if I could get you naked and aroused, you'd finally understand my intentions."

Laughing, Jaskier smiled down at him incredulously. "You know, most people just  _ say  _ something."

Geralt pulled him down into a deep kiss before promising, "I'm going to fuck you so hard, you won't remember having fucked anyone else."

Barely listening, Jaskier seated himself on Geralt, hands pressed flat against his chest to help with his balance. He gave a few test bounces before driving himself back against Geralt's cock. His eyes slid closed, his head fell back, as he fucked Geralt. Two hands spread warmly down his sides, aiding him with his balance. Jaskier caught his lower lip between his teeth and moaned Geralt's name.

"Hmm," Geralt rumbled. Heat flushed through Jaskier at the sound, delighting at pulling any sort of noise from the stoic Witcher. Adjusting his weight, he was able to thrust backward with more force and depth, reveling in the feeling of such fullness.

"Geralt," he cried again, rocking more urgently. The hands gripped his arms, stilling him, and Geralt shifted his legs underneath him. Planting his feet against the mattress, Geralt thrust up into Jaskier feverishly, bouncing him against his flesh. Jaskier's head rolled backward, an endless stream of grunts pouring from his mouth as Geralt pounded into him. Muscles bunched in Geralt's stomach and arms as he concentrated on pounding into the bard. Jaskier weaky thrust backward, too fucked out to do much more than enjoy the ride.

Jakier hadn’t noticed he’d closed his eyes, but when he opened them, he was drawn deeply into the intensity that was Geralt’s stare. Rumor stated that Witchers didn’t feel emotions the way humans did, and from the way Geralt seemed to pour himself into Jaskier, Jaskier could believe the rumor to be true—that Witchers felt emotions much more intensely than humans ever could.

Slipping down onto his elbows, Jaskier captured Geralt’s lips in his, the tender kiss a stark contrast to the rough pounding Jaskier was receiving from behind. Fingers slipped into the Witcher’s hair, running through the soft strands, the other hand tenderly cupping Geralt’s jaw. Geralt slowed his unrelenting pace, hands drifting to stroke the sensitive flesh that had been bouncing against Geralt’s thighs.

“On your knees,” Geralt whispered, and Jaskier mewled meekly, muscles limp like melted wax. Geralt helped Jaskier slide from his cock and get situated on the mattress, pulling a pillow to Jaskier’s chest to keep him comfortable. Breath tickling his ear, Geralt urged, “Let me take care of you. Just relax.”

Keeping his chest pressed against Jaskier’s back, Geralt thrust steadily but powerfully, marveling at how Jaskier seemed to suck him back in. Reaching around, he gripped Jaskier’s cock, fisting him in time to his thrusts. Jaskier pushed back against Geralt, urging him deeper inside of him, angling his body until Geralt was hitting his prostate. With a moan that vibrated through his whole body, Jaskier rocked backward onto Geralt, controlling their pace to match how eager he was.

With a growl, Geralt hooked one arm under Jaskier’s armpits, pulling him back into a kneeling position. With his other hand, he eagerly fisted Jaskier’s cock, mouth worshiping the flesh at the junction of his neck and shoulder. “Come on, Jaskier,” he rumbled, unrelenting. With a huff, he slid out of Jaskier and pushed him so he was laying on his back. Taking his own reddened cock in hand, Geralt orgasmed in under five strokes, painting fine white lines across the bard’s stomach and cock. He eyed the fucked out bard beneath him and growled, “I keep coming before you. That’s not my intention.”

A sly smile pulled at Jaskier’s lips. “Then make it up to me.”

Geralt swallowed him down to the root before Jaskier could do more than bat an eyelash. Jaskier arched off the bed, howling as he firmly grasped Geralt by the hair. His cockhead pounded against the back of Geralt’s throat, tongue running along the underside, lips pulling at his sensitive flesh. Jaskier gazed down at the Witcher, mesmerized by how intensely focused he was at the task at hand.

With a smirk, Geralt pulled off Jaskier and slid off the bed. Holding his hands out, he motioned for Jaskier to step onto the floor before he dropped to his knees in front of Jaskier. Eyes pointed upward, Geralt directed, “I want you to fuck my face.”

Jaskier’s knees buckled, and he held onto Geralt’s head to keep himself from falling in surprise. Geralt held him mouth open, eyes glazed, clearly craving this, and Jaskier happily fed his cock into his mouth. He could feel it as Geralt eased the muscles in his throat to loosen enough for Jaskier to slide all the way back…

Jaskier’s hands threaded through Geralt’s hair, holding his head still while he thrust down Geralt’s throat. Never in a thousand lifetimes would he have imagined the Witcher as he was at that moment: on his knees in front of Jaskier, mouth agape, drool sliding down his chin… 

Feeling his orgasm approach, Jaskier inquired, “Want me to cum on your face or in your mouth?”

Throat otherwise occupied and unable to respond, Geralt pointed at his mouth.

“Shit,” Jaskier hissed before pounding even harder. Geralt’s eyes slid closed, blissed, as he awaited Jaskier’s completion. Holding the back of Geralt’s head, Jaskier buried himself in the Witcher’s mouth, releasing down his throat. Pulling back, he let the Witcher breathe.

In one fluid motion, Geralt pulled Jaskier back into bed with him, rolling him up in his arms, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. Jaskier laughed as Geralt’s hair tickled his cheek and placed soft kisses on his head. With a yawn, Jaskier teased, “Really, Geralt, you should have asked to fuck me much sooner.”

A gentle nip to his lower lip had Jaskier giggling again. “You could have said something, too, you know. For all your endless talking — ”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jaskier interrupted. “For now, just promise me something.”

“Hmm?”

“No more threesomes with whores. Threesomes, yes. Whores, no.”

“Hmm.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a comment and a kudos, if you're so inclined!
> 
> If you liked this story, please check out my other stories! I also have one of those [Tumblr](https://mystical-knight-dragon.tumblr.com/) thingies. If you're feeling extra generous, you can buy me a cup of [coffee.](https://ko-fi.com/mysticalknightdragon)


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